Category: photography

Perthpective

What’s that old platitude, something like “you’re not the best judge of your own work?”

The more I give over to my creative side, I keep learning that lesson over and over. I think I have a good eye for editing my own work, and of course I’m usually wrong.

I’ve also learned that the best way to really see something objectively is to give it time.

Time is the great mediator.

(wow, I’m chock full to brimming with platitudes today!)

Anyhow, I got to thinking about this recently while sorting through my iPhoto library. As an amateur photographer, I take *a lot* of photographs. This is the advice of my friend, mentor and teacher, Marty Springer, so I follow her advice.

But this means my iPhoto library fills up fast with fair to middling to downright awful shots. Since all of this dreck was slowing down my iMac, I decided to save the photos elsewhere and start again.

Oh, and also…my New Year’s resolution is to get better about tagging all of my photos as I download them so I can search more quickly.

So in cleaning out my old photos, sifting through the pile, I came across the shot at the end of this post.

The Feline had climbed into the laundry basket that was lying on the ground, so I grabbed my camera and took a few snaps. I considered them throwaway photos. Less than throwaway. I downloaded them to my iMac and never looked back.

But something about this photo…it really works. It was taken probably two or more years ago when I was just learning my camera and had no idea about depth of field. And yet, the depth of field is what makes this photo interesting. It’s not a perfect photo but it’s also not bad. A little imperfect Photoshop adjustments and I’ll be damned…not too bad at all.

Because not only with time comes perspective, but also…I can learn some lessons from three years ago me. The one just learning about photography. The one who just snapped and didn’t think.

A careless shot can be magic.

I guess that’s why my photography teacher tells us never to delete photos. “You never know” she says.

click photo if interested in seeing a larger size

Photo by Karen Fayeth and subject to Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Warfare On The Not-Really-All-That-High Seas

Back in August, I mentioned that I work in office buildings located right next to a public park and marshy baylands that are home to quite a few birds.

Back in August, it was all about the Canada Geese. Lots and lots of geese.

I’m endlessly fascinated by all the wildlife, so I try to find the time during my work days to take a break and use the beautiful walking trails in the area. I love to stroll by the lagoons, all teeming with wildlife.

Among others species, we have flounder, bat rays, ducks, herons and egrets. The more I sashay around the lagoon, the more I’ve come to recognize many of the animals.

For example, there is this handsome fella (at least I think it’s a fella). This is, I believe, a great white heron:

This heron is always found camped out in one corner of the lagoon. It is where the water flows into the lagoon from an underwater pipe, so the bird stands there gazing into the water and picking off small fish.

For comparison, here’s a snowy egret. They are a bit smaller than the herons.

As the weather has turned cold, I’ve noticed more and more numbers and species of birds have come to call our little baylands area their home.

Mostly, these birds all live together in harmony. There is plenty of fish to eat and lots of room to roam.

But a few weeks ago, some new thugs hit town, and they’re messing up the harmony in my lagoon.

Dun-dun-duuuuuuuun

Pelicans.

The pelicans have brought a weird vibe to the whole area.

Today, I went for a walk and took my camera along hoping for some inspiration. After a long week at work, I had little left in the tank. A photowalk seemed like a good idea.

So while taking a few snaps of my friend the heron, I noticed something odd happening.

About eight pelicans were swimming in fast, full speed ahead. I suppose you could call it ramming speed, and they were headed toward the subject of my photographs.

In other words, they were charging the heron.

Suddenly, every heron and egret in the large lagoon came flying and squawking their way over. There was dive bombing and vocalizing and tense moments.

After a few minutes, the pelicans turned and swam off.

Wild! I’d never seen anything like it! Shaking my head, I began walking again.

A while later, in the next corner of the lagoon, it happened again.

Water splashed, birds squawked. This one was a doozy. It was a well-executed, well-choreographed battle.

After a lengthy tussle, the herons and egrets prevailed again and the pelicans were chased off.

Now every heron and egret was on high alert. They were positioned strategically around the lagoon, each surveying a different direction, eyes sharp for another attack by the pelican insurgents.

Soon, in yet a new section, it all started up again. The splashing, the squawking, the fighting.

From the rear, a large battalion of little black ducks (I believe they are called American Coots) got in the game. They swam over in formation and clumped up, creating an obstacle to prevent the pelican progress.

This is a few minutes after the battle was won. Here, they rest, conserving energy to prepare for the next battle.

A heron soon made his way over to address the soldiers.

“Excellent work, troops. Today, we’ll endure this pelican insurgence. Historians shall speak of this day. Children will learn our names. Our women will weep at our graves.

Coots! Ready your snackies and eat hearty… For tonight, we dine in hell!”

Sure enough, it was only a few minutes later when this gent sailed by.

And OH IT WAS BACK ON!!

This time the herons took a different approach and lined up. They all stood guard, and as the pelicans swam by, each heron in turn would yell and flap at the pelicans until they moved on, then the next would pick up the fight. It was an amazing bit of coordinated defense.

Not sure if this photo can even capture it all, but bear in mind that while you can see about fourteen herons in this photo, there are more around the bend, waiting their turn.

By this time, I’d made my way around the loop and it was time to head back to the office. As I left the scene, I wondered how long the battle would rage on.

Crazy, mixed up, wild maritime fighting. My peaceful lagoon is now a war zone!

And the geese don’t care.

Don’t let the vicious battle happening just a few feet away get in the way of your gorging yourself there, big guy.

All photos by Karen Fayeth

I Don’t Even Recognize Myself Anymore

Oh no.

I have a confession to make.

It’s too horrible to mention, though it must be said out loud. Perhaps an open discussion will take the stigma out of it.

Here it goes:

: deep breath :

I’ve got the Christmas spirit and I don’t know why.

This is a perplexing condition. Usually I’m very, very cranky from about November 15ish until about January 3ish.

I hate the music. Hate the cheesey decorations. Hate the whole hubbub.

For reasons I cannot explain, every once in a while, I get the spirit. I *want* to celebrate the season. I have a burning desire to decorate. I hum Christmas carols. I plan out gift lists and actually, *gasp*, send holiday cards out.

It’s an illness for which there is no cure.

It’s been about three years since I had this affliction. I cannot explain why it hit me so hard this year, but here it is with all its screaming tinsel and shouting jingle bells.

Halloween snuck up on me out of nowhere. Thanksgiving arrived and caught me unawares.

But Christmas? Nope. I’ve got my catcher’s mitt on and I’m waiting for ya!

I even…well, I did a bad thing yesterday.

It looks like this:

I know! Don’t look at me…I’m so ashamed.

At least it’s not decorated yet.

But that’s only because…

No, it’s too terrible to speak.

But I must.

There are no ornaments on my tree yet because….

Ok fine.

Because I’m MAKING THEM ALL THIS YEAR!!!!

It’s a sickness.

: hums : Just hear those sleigh bells ringing their jing-jing-jingling tuuuuune. C’mon it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with yoooouuuuu.

Photo by Karen Fayeth, taken with my iPhone 4

The Lonely Road

I’ll send the angels to watch over you tonight
And you send them right back to me
A lonely road is a bodyguard
If we really want it to be

— From “Sleeping in Paris” by Rosanne Cash

Yesterday I climbed into the Jeep and went on a long overdue road trip, just me and my steel beast, 130 highway miles and lots and lots of thinking.

The reason for the trip was nothing earth shattering, just had to head up to the north side of Sacramento to attend some work related meetings.

Clocking in at just under three hours, it was a ghastly drive, not only because it lacks any sort of interesting things to see, but the stop and go traffic kept me on my toes most of the way.

I left plenty early to avoid commute traffic but had no luck. California’s Highway 80 is a busy road no matter what time of day.

As I drove, dodging other cars, stepping quickly on my brakes for yet another slowdown, stopping to pay the toll on the Carquinez Bridge, and cursing under my breath, I yearned for a different sort of road trip.

Growing up in New Mexico, the ability to hop in the car for the sole purpose of a long thoughtful drive was something I took advantage of every chance I got.

While living in Albuquerque, sometimes I’d gas up the car and drive to Soccoro, only to turn around and drive home.

I can’t lie to ya, Albuquerque to Soccoro isn’t a visually interesting drive either, but once out of the city limits, it’s a pretty easy road with hardly any traffic. I’d set the cruise control on 75, point ‘er south in a straight line and let my mind work out the problems of the day.

Straight roads and very little traffic produce a very fine form of therapy.

My all time favorite drive and think road, however, is Highway 28 in southern New Mexico. The stretch of road from Las Cruces to La Union and back includes canopy of pecan trees arcing over the road, arboreal arms to embrace and hold me safe in case I need to cry.

I got a lot of thinking taken care of on Highway 28.

Not so much on California’s highway 80. The thinking was more like, “uh, stopping again? Why? Oh please don’t slam into me!”

But still, it was a road trip and there is something beautiful about me, my decade old Jeep, shuffle on the iTunes and a problem to work out in my mind.

Oh, by the way, something else happened while out there on the road.

First, this occurred:

Shocking, isn’t it?

Then, from out of nowhere, this happened:

(No, mom, I wasn’t driving almost 80 while taking a photograph of my odometer. Why do you ask?)

It’s the first car I’ve ever owned from fresh off the lot to one hundred thousand miles. Sort of proud of my little Jeep.

And just because I’m feeling gratuitous, here’s a quad cam shot of the Bay Bridge (because the Golden Gate gets all the love).

(Click for full size)

Ok, I’m wandering off the point here. Let’s tie this whole thing together, and get back to where we began.

I discovered today that any road, even a commute time busy three lane highway in Northern California can be a lonely road.

And a lonely road is a bodyguard if we really want it to be.
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All photographs by Karen Fayeth, and taken with my iPhone 4. Bay Bridge shot from the QuadCamera app.

So Thoroughly Nice

Despite the date showing that today is Monday, we’re going to pretend it is Thursday so I can meet my weekly Theme Thursday post.

This week’s theme challenge is: Sand

Ah sand.

Beautiful beaches. Swimming in the surf. Sand in your shorts.

Really, sand is sort of a metaphor for life. So useful. So inviting. So “ow, damn!” all in one substance.

I wanted to do something different with this theme so I went to my favorite free stock photo site, had to go several pages down, and found the image that really grabbed my attention.

Now we’re talking sand!

If you are a horse person, then you know *exactly* what that horse it up too. Just back from a nice long ride and back at the barn, the saddle has come off, the saddle blanked peeled back. The moment that trusty steed is turned loose he will drop awkwardly to the ground.

All four hooves will then swing up in the air and a much happier horse starts wriggling around, scratching a sweaty back in the sand with SUCH a look of joy. Some horses will even groan a bit while they scratch.

Ya can’t help but laugh.

It’s a moment of joy so pure, it makes me wanna flop down in the sand and roll around just to see what all those sighs of contentment are about.

Photo by Sue Nagyova and provided royalty free from stock.xchng